


Add A Little Yellow

by Neekou



Series: Blue & Green [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Slow Dancing, a bit of a play by play between this and green isn't blue, and explain why he's there tbh, brief mention of lee, to get into Kakashi's head during all that stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 13:03:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neekou/pseuds/Neekou
Summary: A complimentary piece to "Blue Isn't Green No Matter How You Look At It".A cursory glance satisfies whatever temptation he had to wander any closer, though a silhouette of pink draws him back, if just for a second or two. Mentally, he thumbs through a series of summer festivals he’d sworn to avoid. He can see small bits of paper littered across the ground, stepping as tiny smudge of blue drifts towards his left foot. Kakashi leans down pinches the piece of scrap between thumb and forefinger.He tucks it into his pocket for discarding later.





	Add A Little Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all of the love. 
> 
> Wanted a tiny little prologue/drabble from Kakashi's perspective.

    The weight of his shoulders becomes less noticeable as he slips out of his flak jacket, pulling fingerless gloves off and tossing them haphazardly onto the edge of his bed. His chilled digits press absently at the back of his neck, seeking idle comfort against his own heat. The idea of settling down so early in the evening was not as enticing as it used to be. Kakashi makes a small noise of displeasure in the back of his throat before glancing to the door. He ponders quietly, having no real ambition to go for a walk despite the ache in his legs. Restlessness only increased with complacency, he found. Deft fingers scratch beneath his mask for a moment before he turns and presses out into the warm air.

    Konohagakure had an odd sort of beauty near twilight. He’s grateful for the absence of company on dusty streets, hands tucked into his pockets as if they’d never left. His back slouches ever so slightly as he stretches into himself, seeking sympathy in a body that wouldn’t listen to silent pleas. His exhale is loud enough to disturb the peace around him, though it’s nearly lost to the quiet hum of commotion a few streets over. Kakashi can see strings of lights connecting street lamp to street lamp, and his curiosity drives him to take a quick look.

    A cursory glance satisfies whatever temptation he had to wander any closer, though a silhouette of pink draws him back, if just for a second or two. Mentally, he thumbs through a series of summer festivals he’d sworn to avoid. He can see small bits of paper littered across the ground, stepping as tiny smudge of blue drifts towards his left foot. Kakashi leans down pinches the piece of scrap between thumb and forefinger. He tucks it into his pocket for discarding later.

    “The Color Festival,“ Kakashi muses, entirely to himself. His voice doesn’t carry across the crowded gathering to catch the kunoichi’s attention. He wondered if he’d already been spotted - in that case, he would need to make a brief appearance to placate her. While it wasn’t his scene, he would prefer to avoid adding insult to injury, considering how often she and Naruto complained they did not get to see him. While the current Hokage was easy enough to avoid, Sakura had become a little less predictable. His expression shifts to a small grimace at the memory of her previous lecture. Something about regular visits to the hospital. He couldn’t remember her words, but her vehement emotions had stuck with him enough to leave an impression.

    Many of the others had dressed according to the evening. There were several intricate outfits in the crowd – kimonos and the like. Sakura was wearing a pale blue sundress that came just below her knee. It swayed in the gentle breeze as she danced with Lee at arm’s length, laughing as he made some raucous comment loud enough to distract a few of the couples around them. They both hopped around in disarray, brazenly ignorant of the commotion they were causing. When the song came to an end, she released his hands and gave a small, courteous bow. He could see the smile on Lee’s face from where he stood. Kakashi hesitated long enough to allow the other male to find another dance partner, nudging his way into the crowd to find her before the next song started. He meets the gaze of an elderly kunoichi, long since retired. When she tries to usher him over for a dance, his inner monologue screams in a mild panic. He pushes through the crowd with renewed vigor. Sakura isn’t looking at him when he finally nears her, doing everything in his power to avoid the temptation to look anywhere else. Surely if he seemed intent enough on Sakura, any other suitors would be discouraged. Or so he hoped.

    He’s met with a brilliant green as she shifts her weight to walk forward, halting only as she noticed that he was blocking her path. Kakashi does not remember extending his hand to her, but he’s brought back from his haze when her brows furrow; she takes his hand despite the look on her face. She was cool to the touch - softer than her strength suggested.

    “Did you draw green, Sensei?” Her tone is warm between them, sending tiny ripples of familiarity down his spine. Her correction is fluid enough to avoid any awkwardness in conversation. “Kakashi. Still getting used to it.”

    A flash of memory, quick on his tongue. “I drew blue.” An incorrect answer, but the closest he could come to the truth. The crinkled piece of paper is his pocket was the only thing he could think of. Her further confusion is oddly endearing, though he’s grateful she does not question him further. Why he didn’t simply tell the truth, even he did not know.

    “You understand the rules, don’t you?” Her expression is enough to bring an unbidden chuckle from somewhere deep down. While he’d never taken the time to familiarize himself with the do’s and don’ts of these festivals, he could only imagine it was as simple as it suggested.

    “I do,” he retorts quickly, still amused. The inevitability of a dance drew ever closer, but Kakashi snuck a discreet glance at the band to find them wanting. He’d offered his hand too early, it would seem, and was now left to ensure things didn’t become awkward as they waited for the final member to resume his post. The cellist strummed a quiet beat in the meantime, offering something to sway to. Kakashi stood firmly still despite this, watching as she observes the others around them.

    When she turns back to him, she seems a little more sure of herself, “I never expected you to show up to something like this. No offense. I’m sure you’ve been busy - I just don’t think I’ve seen you at any of the other festivals this year.“

    “I’ve been around,” comes his quick retort, though it obviously was not what she was seeking in his response. Her snort is enough to catch his attention, but he would not elaborate any further than he needed to. He was grateful as the violinist took his spot, but his expression remained pleasantly void of relief. Despite his mask, she searches his face for something Kakashi assumes she cannot find, though a sudden tingle of insecurity prickles at his insides. She seems so intent. He can see the violinist raise his bow to signal the initial downbeat of their following piece from in the corner of his eye. The elder takes an immediate, surefooted step forward, his hand assuming an oddly practiced position at her hip as the music began anew. His other fingers find greater purchase between her own. He notes the look of genuine puzzlement as it plays across delicate features - a private exchange only he had been privy to. His gaze does not flicker from her face as she reaches to grasp at his shoulder, curling into the thick fabric. He gives a gentle exhale without noticing he’d made a sound.

    While her attention roves about the crowded space, she manages to keep his. They both remained in safe, twisting circles. Kakashi would never describe himself as a dancer, though he’d seen others practice the very same routines before. Despite his own inexperience, he was sure he would not make a fool of himself. Sakura seemed keen enough to follow his lead, as simple as it was; a part of him is only driven to mindless curiosity in how easily she gives away the reigns. He bites his tongue on the matter, regardless.

    “Do your smiles ever meet your lips?”

    His mask is not enough to allow feigned indifference at her question. His brow arches almost immediately. She seems abashed before he can answer, though her query lingers between them. The flush across her cheeks is difficult to miss, yet his instinct to avoid answering kicks harder than his urge to comment. “Why do you ask?”

    She shrugs, staring at his chest as if she’d find something there. He imagined that she did not, yet did not fault her for a sudden lack of tongue, “I was just wondering if you had laugh lines.“ Had she spoken any quieter, he would not have heard her.

    His second laugh of the evening comes as suddenly as the first as he mentally keeps pace when the song slows. She falls into his rhythm. They are both ignorant to the slightest pull that draws them closer together. His fingers are no longer as cold, just as her body loses its previous rigidity with each step.

    “You’ve never seen my face,“ Kakashi replies, reading her expression for further signs of annoyance. He isn’t disappointed, “I suppose you could say I do. Does that help you paint a picture?"

    She’s silent, now, brows furrowed as she watches their feet. When the kunoichi has gathered herself, he meets her gaze properly. His poker face left much to be desired in conversation, though Sakura seemed to glean whatever she needed. Bright, brilliant green threw his concentration. He wondered if she could see the same fascination in his eyes, darker still on that dimly lit street. Kakashi would have been surprised to hear her speak again, had he not known her penchant for filling silence.

    “Have you danced with anyone else tonight?”

    “No,” and he again omits the fact he’d only just arrived.

    “Couldn’t find any other blues, I take it?” His lips tug into a small grin at her quip, though he does not rise to the challenge. The band shifts to their closing piece. A dance for lovers. They both silently ponder where the evening had gone.

    “Keep your secrets,” she grumbles at him, drawing closer. Apparently she’d had enough of trying to coax out a proper conversation. Kakashi stills at her seeking touch and finds himself at a loss for words. Her hand dips from his shoulder to grasp at his shirt, twisting tight into the fabric, almost as if she expected him to turn away. He swallows again, yet his own hand has already swelled to the small of her back. The elder does not grasp at cloth, but his touch itself spoke volumes. Even he was not sure what it said. His chin perches atop her head with ease, given the height difference between them. When he pulls her the tiniest bit closer, neither seem to notice.

    The beat is calm, if not lackadaisical. His heart does not keep time. Kakashi is unsure how long the song lasts, though she has pulled away before he’s managed to gather himself. She’s looking at him, and he at her. He wonders what she can read in his expression when he finally allows her to step away. Quickly, and as nonchalantly as he could manage, he shoves his hands into his pockets. She hasn’t torn away from his gaze.

    “Thank you for the dance,” Sakura breaks the silence between them, almost lost in the shuffle as the others began to disperse. Kakashi scrounges for something to say, yet schools his expression into something less frazzled.

    “It was good to see you, Sakura.”

    “You too. I’ll see you around?” Her expression is oddly eager, and Kakashi hadn’t the heart to confirm nor deny. Instead, he offers his own little smile before turning on his heel. A hand raises in the air. He takes a few steps down the street before he hears her call after him.

    “Goodnight, Kakashi,” and his name sounds almost foreign on her tongue. The smell of lavender lingers on his skin for a moment too long. He exhales before speaking, as if casting it away. A part of him hopes that he is as unreadable as he’s trying to be.

    “Goodnight.”


End file.
